


The Latke Incident

by Milieva



Category: Doctor Who (2005)
Genre: Gen, Hanukkah, Originally Posted on LiveJournal
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2009-12-07
Updated: 2009-12-07
Packaged: 2019-09-12 21:09:48
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,651
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16879230
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Milieva/pseuds/Milieva
Summary: The Doctor and Rose attempt to fry up onions and potatoes, but nothing seems to be going quite right.





	The Latke Incident

**Author's Note:**

> Warning: This fic contains cheating at latkes by use of a blender, rather than grating the potatoes and onions.

“It was a pity they were out of Ktifrus apples,” the Doctor said as they neared the TARDIS. “They do make a delicious sauce.”

He stopped abruptly, staring at the door as if he were trying to make it open telepathically. Both his hands were busy holding bulging grocery sacks, and he couldn’t very well set them on the ground, because the damp mud would soak through in mere seconds. Unable to reach his pockets, he was at a loss as to how he was going to open the door.

Thankfully, Rose was there to rescue him. She had only one sack and was wielding her key as she shoved around him to unlock the door.

Once inside the console room, the Doctor continued his lengthy dissertation on apples as if he had never even stopped. He deposited the lighter of the two bags in Rose’s free hand as he zipped about the console and flicked buttons and switches, throwing them back into the vortex.

“Well, it is breeding season, so there isn’t any way to safely harvest them. The Ktifrus apple trees are a bit violent for the better part of two months this time of year,” he explained as he took the bag back and followed Rose to the main kitchen.

“Most intelligent growers know better than to harvest them right about now. Though… they are so much sweeter at the start of breeding season…”

“Violent trees?” Rose asked, setting her one bag down on the kitchen table.

The Doctor had already begun going about emptying the contents of his two grocery bags before he chose to reply. A sack of potatoes went on the worktop beside the cooker.

“J.K. Rowling’s whomping willow isn’t too far off,” he offered as he set the milk on the shelf to the left of the eggs Rose had just put in the fridge.

Rose rolled her eyes. It would have been better not to have asked. She handed him a small bag of onions which he set beside the potatoes before handing her a bottle of some sweet, red juice of a fruit she couldn’t pronounce the name of even if her life depended on it.

“Why do you want apples from a whomping tree, anyway?”

He looked at her as if she’d just asked the most ridiculous question before explaining, in a voice he used when he was explaining some complicated algorithm he knew she had no way of comprehending, “Because, Rose Tyler, Ktifrus apples are only the very best apples in this galaxy. And if we are going to be using Hexuwang potatoes—which are the best potatoes in the galaxy—it only follows we should use Ktifrus apples for our sauce.”

She definitely rolled her eyes at him then.

“Telinin apples will be fine,” he said, perhaps a little disappointed as he pulled the aforementioned apples out and set them on the counter beside the potatoes.

With the fridge fully stocked again, the Doctor folded up the thick fabric sacks and tucked them away in a cupboard before rolling up his sleeves.

“Are we ready to get this party started?” he asked, turning on the water to wash his hands.

He hummed a cheerful little song about hand washing as he scrubbed his fingers clean, handing Rose the soap so she could do the same. She laughed at him as he concluded his song with “Nice and clean,” sung out in the same perky tune.

“Do you always have to sing when you wash your hands?” Rose teased as the two of them went about washing up the potatoes.

“Best way to make sure you wash them the proper length of time,” he replied, quite seriously. “Most people don’t wash their hands long enough. They might as well not wash them at all.”

“A little dirt never hurt anyone,” Rose retorted as she rubbed the skin of the potato clean. It was a bit smoother than she thought it would be, but it looked like the potatoes she was used to, if a little more purple in hue.

“Yes, but the viruses and bacteria can.”

“What makes Hexuwang potatoes so special?” she asked, trying to change the subject.

The Doctor helped her deposit the newly cleaned tubers on the chopping board before handing her a knife and saying, “Have a look for yourself.”

Rose uneasily took the knife from him and looked warily down at the potato in front of her, not quite sure what to think about it. Would something jump out at her from inside? She looked over at the Doctor, perhaps to gage some sort of answer from his expression. He looked positively incandescent with excitement. That couldn’t be a good sign.

Well, it was better to get it over with sooner rather than later, she consoled herself as she brought the knife straight down through the paper-thin skin and the thick, starchy middle of the potato.

It didn’t seem to slice any different than a normal potato.

Cautiously moving the two halves aside and noticing the one major difference between this and Earth potatoes, she exclaimed, “It’s blue!”

“Fantastic skills of observation.”

“Oh, shut it,” Rose said as she bumped him.

Looking back down at her chopping board, she gestured at the potato with the blade, asking, “What makes it blue?”

“Same thing as what makes you blonde. Genetics,” he replied matter-of-factly, pausing a moment before adding, “Well… genetics and hydrogen peroxide. Your hair. Not the potatoes. Wouldn’t want to eat something made with hydrogen peroxide.”

She laughed.

“Still odd.”

“Different. Not odd,” he corrected.

“Same thing.”

He took down a second chopping board and knife for the onions.

“Enough chat. Get to chopping or we’ll never be done.”

Rose laughed again. He was one to talk about chatting too much, but she started cubing the potatoes while the Doctor went about chopping the onions. They were quite ordinary looking onions. There was nothing strange looking about them. The smell was even beginning to make her tear up a little.

Nearly as soon as he had started, the Doctor was finished chopping and had begun rummaging through the cupboards looking for a frying pan, but Rose caught up with him soon enough and turned to ask him what she should do next.

“Oh, put a few handfuls in that blender with some onion and a little water,” came the muffled reply, as his entire top half had nearly disappeared into the cupboard.

Following directions, Rose gather up a large handful of potato and dropped it into the nearest blender. She turned back to get some of the onion when the Doctor pulled himself out, frying pan in hand.

“Make sure you don’t—,” he started, but he never got a chance to finish his sentence.

The blender Rose had deposited the potato into had come to life. She jumped back, scattering bits of onion all over the floor as the appliance danced across the counter, spewing fragments of potato all over the kitchen.

The Doctor jumped into action.

He shoved the frying pan into Rose’s hand and tackled the runaway blender, brandishing his sonic screwdriver at it. The screwdriver buzzed loudly as the Doctor clicked through the settings, while still grappling with the manic machine. Finally, he found the one he was looking for and jabbed the tip against the control panel. The blender became a simple blender again, just sitting quietly on the countertop where it belonged.

“What was that?”

“Meant to tell you to use the other one,” the Doctor said, running a hand through his hair, embarrassment in his voice. He pulled his hand away and looked at the bits of potato shavings on his palm, saying, “This one isn’t too fond of starch.”

“First it’s a toaster with a bread fixation, and now a blender that doesn’t like starch? What is it with you and sentient appliances?” Rose wiped potato off her face and laughed. “You are seriously disturbed, you know that.”

“Oi!” the Doctor exclaimed as he removed the top of the blender and rinsed it out, trying his best to remove all the starch that was sticking to the sides.

“Well you are,” Rose repeated, poking him in the side to make her point.

“I’m not the one who upset the blender,” he quipped, before he spoke a few gentle words to the blender in question.

Rose rolled her eyes. There were some things about life on the TARDIS she would never understand. Following the Doctor’s example, Rose forced herself to ignore the mess on every surface of the kitchen. She knew for experience, most of it would clean itself off as soon as they left the room, but she still had the urge to scrub it herself.

Making use of the other blender, the one the Doctor had gotten out for the potatoes, they were able to put together a proper chunky sort of batter of potato, onion, egg, and a bit of flour.

He carefully dropped spoonfuls of the batter into the hot oil, as if he’d done it a hundred times.

Taking a seat at the table, Rose watched him fry their latkes. She did love to watch him cook. She liked watching him cook nearly as much as she liked watching him work on the TARDIS. It was for the expressions on his face more than anything. He always looked so intense, then a little goofy, and then back to intense again.

There was a bright smile on his face, but he didn’t sing or even hum. He was focused on getting them to just the right golden colour.

Well, more of a purplish-golden colour.

As long as he didn’t set the kitchen on fire, everything would turn out alright. The last thing they needed was the fire suppression system to kick in. That foam was very nearly impossible to wash out of her hair.


End file.
